Windblown N' Torn
by Calico Yorki
Summary: Rebuilding, setting out once again, and discovering the sea in a new way. - I consider this a more enjoyable attempt of mine at the piracy of Neopets. I hope it's to my readers' liking!
1. Chapter 1

My name is Mackenroe Donnerick, a Yellow Kyrie. However, most folks know me as the 'Pirate Avenger'. My crew, the _Revenge_'s crew, was splintered completely after Cap'n Scarblade went down. Benny was put in jail, most of the crew split into their own tiny factions, and only a few of us still hope for the Captain's return. You'd know them as the Helmsman, the Scout, the Bomber, and the Champion. We live out of a fishing boat that we found crashed on the beach. It's got a lot of space, and tons of preserved food, but all of us spend our time hopin' and prayin' that we can take to the seas again.

By the by, it's a shitty kind of place to live in during the winter. I remember distinctly one day, in the Month of Giving, before it all started, it was especially bad. The Bomber and the Scout were both huddling close to the Champion, as we'd found nasty petpetpets in the blankets. No, none of those are their real names - Their names are Sammy Shoemaker (the Bomber), J. Morgan Harrier (the Scout), and Al Cid Bermellón (the Champion). You know my name, and that leaves Jane Beckman. She wasn't just our helmsman; she was a shipwright before piracy became her only option, and that experience was invaluable to the _Revenge_ on our travels. Well, I don't want to go off on too bad of a tangent, so I'll try to keep focused.

While Jane was buying sleeping bags for our little motley crew, I had an important job that she'd sent me on. For you see, I was always the luckiest bastard on Scarblade's crew. So, I was on a job to get some money. I'd already squeezed those rats in the bilge dice hall dry and related the cash to Jane, so, I decided to try my luck at an old venue. Into the Golden Dubloon and down the stairs, like always, I went through the heavy door and into the dim room beyond. I had a distinct love of Krawps, but hadn't gotten to play in a Warf's age. So, I was pleased to see the familiar green Krawk in his suit, manning the table. No words needed to be shared between us: I set my chips on the bets I wanted, and when I was ready, he gave the two red dice a roll.

I left with easily twice the coin I entered with. "Still got it," I muttered to myself, satisfied. As I made my way back to our little place on the coast, I found myself taking a route alongside the sea. The stormy, steel-gray water churned beneath the sky; just as dull, the clouds were, discounting the occasional spear of lightning and crack of thunder. As the waves bashed onto the rocks, sending up an icy spray that even my fur couldn't keep from faintly stinging, I kept thinking about the Captain. He was a monster of the seas, and we all feared him like no one else. It was more for fear than respect that most of us obeyed him.

But then, there were the likes of me, and later, Sammy. We were orphans on tiny islands, far out on the sea, and had to learn how to fight very young. I mostly taught myself swordsmanship, with any blades I could find. As for Sammy, her older brother made explosives for a mining outfit. Horace Shoemaker is still known as the foremost expert on detonations to not live on the mainland. Anyways, we both nearly lost our lives fighting for our islands against smaller pirate crews. That was until the _Revenge_ came to our separated shores, and Captain Scarblade's crew lit into our attackers.

He claimed our islands as his territory: and there was no one foolhardy enough to attack an island by sea, if Scarblade's name was their shield. He added us both to his crew, gave us a way to repay him for the debt we then owed him. Now, neither of us quite knew what to do without the Captain around to direct us. Plus, without his name protecting all of those tiny little islands, there was nothing in the world stopping other pirate crews from attacking them. But, knowing that it wouldn't help to dwell on what I couldn't change, I forced myself to keep walking to our little new home. See, I have a problem with letting my mind wander, when I'm not sailing or fighting. It's only gotten worse during our stay on land.

When I got back, I found that Jane had already handed out sleeping bags. Morgan (or as he's become known, the Pirate Scout) had a miniature version of the rest, hanging from the ceiling; as opposed to him, Al Cid (you know, the 'Pirate Champion') was sleeping in a truly massive version of the others. Sammy was tossing and turning around, as usual, but like the others, she was finally getting the sleep she was due. The cold hadn't lent itself to good rest.

Jane and I looked at each other, but found we were both too exhausted to speak. I tucked my loot from the gambling joints behind a loose plank in the wall, crawled into my own sleeping bag, and soon managed to find rest.

... ... ...

The next day, the cold weather had ever-so-slightly slackened up on us. So, we all decided to make our way into town. Sammy dragged Al Cid along to look at Petpets (the poor giant never could say no to her when she went all 'Little Sis' on him, for some reason), while Morgan took his own coin to look for maps. He was still convinced that we'd be finding a way to set sail any old day now, and I didn't have the heart to challenge him. That left myself and Jane, walking through the main square. Somehow, our conversation turned to the possibility of setting sail.

I didn't think we were talking very loudly, but as Jane mentioned how unlikely such a dream was, we both heard an uproarious laughter from ahead of us. It came from a Shadow Yurble, but one whose size was unparalleled to any normal 'Pet I'd seen before. Even sitting down, the huge Yurble had to be a full head taller than me; it seemed that his nose was slightly crooked, and he had many gaps in his teeth. He wore a loose, open-buttoned white shirt, a pair of mottled olive and forest green breeches, seaboots with bronze buckles up the front, and a stained, pale blue bandana that somehow held back his unruly mane. As Jane and I appraised him, he took an entire pie by one hand from a huge basket at his side. Tucking into the baked dessert, the Yurble's smile never once faded.

At last, once he'd finished, he chose to speak to us. "No matter how unlikely yer dream may be," he said jovially, "Ya can't ever give up! No one ever came to greatness by playin' it safe all the time and never takin' a big risk! Trust me on this: if ya don't go for it when ya can, in ten years, twenty years, ye'll be rememberin' the things ya didn't do, and ye'll be kickin' yerselves for it." Both of us stared; perplexed, but oddly comforted. The mammoth Yurble picked up his basket, removed another pie, and decided to take his leave. "Love me some pie," he said between bites.

Neither of us knew it at the time, but that man was going to play a huge role in our future. For better or worse, his fate was going to be intertwined with ours. But I shouldn't jump between time and place randomly, should I? I'll tell this story in proper order.

... ... ...

Just two days after that chance meeting, the weather took a turn for the worst. Freezing rain pelted the island, and the lot of us were huddled in our sleeping bags. The cold was truly terrific, and it made any kind of activities to pass the time impossible. None of us was able to get fully to sleep, but we weren't truly awake most of the time, either. Thus, we all gave a mighty start at a pounding on the door to our little home.

Out of my sleeping bag, I convinced the others to keep quiet. Sword in hand, I made my way up the stairs and to the landing where the door was. Cautiously, ever-so-slowly, I eased the door open. What I didn't expect was for a half-dead, Spotted Gelert to collapse right at my feet. He looked up at me blearily, and managed a weak chuckle. "A pleasure, I'm sure," he wheezed. "I don't mean to drop in so suddenly, but I seem to have lost my ship." The 'Pet had no way to elaborate further, for he abruptly drifted off.

We managed to get him bundled up in a chair, and Jane brewed him a special tea she'd bought in case one of us got stuck in the rain. Though it took someone's help every time to give the Gelert a drink, at first, within an hour, his eyes opened. He murmured his thanks, took the teacup in both hands, and carefully sipped the aromatic drink. For a while, none of us had the gumption to speak. Then, at last, it was none other than quiet old Al Cid who spoke up. "Stranger," the massive Cybunny said in his thick accent, "What is your name, and why where you out there?" The look in his eyes spoke of suspicion, and I'm not sure I disagreed with such a sentiment. Only a fool would be out in this weather.

Eventually, the Neopet in our chair spoke. "My name is Jackson Trelowney," he said simply. For some reason, that name rang a bell in all our minds. Still, we let him continue. "I was on my way back to my ship, when I got lost. My entire crew left after our last voyage, which did not exactly go to plan. Too much danger, not enough loot. So, now I'm primarily living out of my ship." Falling silent, he contemplated the tea left in his cup. "This tea is delightful. Thanks muchly!" Jane blankly nodded in confirmation. The lot of us were turning over what he'd said in our minds. This fellow had a ship, and was in need of a crew.

Morgan spoke up first, and I'm glad he did. "What would you say," he began tentatively, "To us acting as your crew? We all have experience sailing, and Jane here is a helmsman _and_ shipwright." He gestured with his wing to Jane, who nodded in confirmation. "We've all been yearning to back out to sea. It would be a win-win, wouldn't you say?" We generally let Morgan do our negotiating, with his silver tongue and all.

For a while, Jackson stroked his chin. However, the smile on his face told us his answer long before he spoke. "That would be an offer I can't refuse," he said simply. "Shall we head to my ship once the storm clears?" Nodding went all around.

At last, we were setting out to sea once more!


	2. Chapter 2

It was a few hours, but the storm did pass without any further incident. So, we picked up any belongings we absolutely needed, and followed Jackson to his ship. It was actually a short walk to where his ship was docked, and believe me, it was a sight for sore eyes. The ship was masterfully built, with an impressive size; well-kept rigging and sails; and visibly well-armed guns and cannons for combat. Once we all boarded, we gave the ship a closer look whilst Jack took to his Captain's quarters.

The deck was fairly spacious, and was free of clutter. As we gave the cargo hold a look over, we found items from all over Neopia. Codestones, dubloons, scrolls, books, weapons of a great variety; they all were organized rather neatly within the hold, and I was honestly quite surprised that this Captain had been to so very many places. As for Sammy, she couldn't wait to investigate the cannons. Thankfully, Jane had the presence of mind to follow the sooty little blue Zafara, and make sure she didn't steal any powder from the armaments.

Not long after, we all gathered on the deck to wait for our new Captain. It occurred to me that we wouldn't be able to explain this to Scarblade, should we ever meet again, and that our punishment would be brutal. But still, I knew, and I think we all knew that our old Captain was in a place he wouldn't be returning to us from. We were all relieved when Jackson left his quarters; now dressed in khaki jeans, and a plain, skintight black t-shirt. He wasted no time in setting us to our tasks. It was refreshing how well he'd picked up our names in such a short time.

"Beckman," he barked, "I want you to take the helm! Shoemaker, make sure the rigging is sound! Morgan, man the crow's nest! Bermellón, Donnerick, head below deck to make sure we've got firepower in case of an attack!" From our experience on the _Revenge_, we did not hesitate a moment to assume our tasks. It was exhilarating and refreshing to have jobs to do once again, even if some of us were out of practice to our tasks. It might not end up pretty if we entered a skirmish, with so few of us available.

Luckily, we reached our destination with little incident. It was a tiny spot of sand and jungle, almost midway to Mystery Island from Krawk Island, with a miniscule port town waiting for us. We were lucky that only one other ship was there, for there was only room for two ships to dock. Said ship didn't seem to have been used for months, and as we made our way into town, we could see why. Countless worn-looking pirates were easing their aches and pains, and it was hard to spot a young face in the crowds.

Outside of a gambling joint, Jackson told us to wait. As much as I wanted to try my luck within, there was no telling if Jackson had a more violent side, nor how easy it would be to set him off. So despite how quickly we grew bored, we all waited as patiently as we could for the Spotted Gelert to return. Our Captain did come back fairly quickly, signifying that he had chosen not to play any games of chance; but we didn't know what to think about the red Zafara who followed him, pouting as if her fun had been cut short.

"Crew," Jackson said in his brassy voice, "This is Jolyne Smith, a navigator and artisan. She's an old friend of mine, and I decided to seek her help." We all appraised the girl. Her eyes were a deep gray-blue, and she had light freckles on her cheeks. Jolyne was fit and well-built, in the way of a runner: slim and lean, and built for speed. She wore a button-up white shirt, khaki trousers held by a toolbelt, and leather boots with brass gears decorating them. The red Zafara also wore a glinting gold necklace, and had some kind of golden bangle around her wrist that was engraved with the image of a Petpet I wasn't familiar with. None of us felt like questioning her, so we didn't mind how she spoke first.

Jolyne said in a fiery tone, "You all don't know what you're getting into with 'the Adventurer', here." Wait. That _definitely_ rang a bell. "But, still, I suppose I could use some of your particular brand of excitement, Trelowney." She gave a mischeivous grin up at the Spotted Gelert. "I can rope some guys into helping, given an hour or two. Then, I'll just have to move the maps, tools and such from my old ship into yours. So, an hour or two and a half. Deal?" They shook hands with finality.

We all had questions, but Jackson gave us a look to keep them at bay. "I'll explain once we get back to the ship," he said simply. With that, he whistled a merry tune, and walked towards the docks. I personally wasn't sure I wanted to wait that long.

... ... ...

Back on the ship (which was curiously yet unnamed), Jolyne was quite true to her judgment of the time. In an hour and a half, she'd rounded up a scarred Island Ruki, a Pirate Krawk with a pegleg and a braided beard, and an unhinged-looking yellow Graarl. Their names were, in order, Luther Bandy; Charles Zephyr; and "Sulphur" Pete. In a little under another half-hour, they'd helped Jolyne move all of her maps and tools into a spare room alongside the cargo hold. In that time, our new Captain elaborated on his history.

"They call me the Adventurer," he said with a rather wistful tone. "I've been all over Neopia, and I still intend to explore further. I like to think I'm not a cruel, nor an unsuccessful pirate; so I'm glad my epithet, at least, has reached all of you." It _was_ hard to not know of his famous nickname, having served on the _Revenge_. Captain Scarblade had regularly spoken of him, saying the Adventurer was making great progress, yet ridiculing him for his aversion to any unnecessary violence. It was odd that Scarblade had any opinion on another pirate Captain, but none of us dared to ask him of it at the time, and it was most likely too late, now.

It wasn't very long at all before we were able to set sail again, after that. Our Captain had Jane go by Jolyne's directions, with Charles and Pete below deck with myself and Al Cid, while Luther stayed up top. For a long while, it seemed that things were going to be quiet on this journey, as it had our last one. That was until the ship bucked on the waves, and Luther shouted down to us that we had an enemy to port. We all moved to man the cannons, but it took a great deal of willpower to not be stunned by Jackson's enraged roars above us. None of us had yet seen him in a bad mood, and he definitely seemed to be taking this attack personally.

After I lit the fuse and fired, I tried to get a look past my cannon to see who was attacking. It took a while for the smoke to clear, and when it did, I almost wished that it hadn't. That giant Shadow Yurble's jovial smile had turned to a murderous grin, as he directed his crew to fire on us. All I could make out as the crew on his ramshackle ship was a Green Mynci woman with an unsettling grin, a Blue Ogrin in a widebrimmed, sagging black hat who seemed half-dead, and a Checkered Kougra dressed in suspenders and carrying a cane.

It was apparent that the lot of them were out for blood, and I was eager to get answers. Yet despite my desire for combat, I knew who was best suited for this out of the four of us below deck. "Al Cid," I shouted over the din of cannonfire, "They need you on deck more than we do on the cannons! Slug that fatass Captain of the enemy ship for me!" Al Cid nodded solemnly, and made his way above deck. As our ships somehow drifted closer, close enough for the crews to meet each other in combat, I got a better look at our foe.

Their ship was a piece of crap, compared to ours. It was not only lacking in any decorations, it was so blocky and slow-looking that it might not have even qualified to be a cargo ship. Yet the cannons were another kettle of fish, entirely: the power of their shots sent up almighty plumes of water into the air, and it was only by our good fortune that we soon got too close for them to safely fire any longer. Had one of those cannons gotten in a good shot, we would be sunk in no time. Seeing that the other two left with me below deck had made their way to ascend, I quickly followed.

Now connected by boarding planks, bobbing ever-so-slightly on the relatively peaceful waters, the two ships had become a battleground. The Mynci woman I saw before had made it to our ship; it took Luther and Charles together, both a flurry of kicks, to keep her swift blows at bay. As I drew my swords, I saw the Checkered Kougra (his glassy, fish-like eyes now more apparent) expertly knocking away every bomb Sammy hurled his way with his cane; as much as that shouldn't have worked, he had yet to gain a scratch on him. It seemed that one of them had left the fray, but in my rush to assist the crew, I didn't notice at the time.

Once I made it to the enemy ship, I looked for Al Cid and the Shadow Yurble Captain. It took very little time; they were atop the apparent Captain's quarters, duking it out. The Yurble had a new tooth missing from his grin and a bloody nose, but Al Cid still fared worse. The immense Cybunny had a shallow, but jagged wound above his left eye, an even bloodier nose, and one of his arms seemed to have gone limp. Not thinking, I drew both of my blades and leapt straight towards the Shadow Yurble with a terrific yell.

As he turned and grinned straight at me, for one of the few times in my life, I felt a spike of fear run my heart through. The enemy Captain's gigantic hand, with its long, iron-strong fingers closed on my throat; just enough to hold me still, hanging above the deck below. He chuckled, eyes glinting. "Well, well, well," he said cheerfully, "I didn't expect ya to have met up with my ol' pal Jack! Too bad. I liked ya, kid." He brought one fist back, and even as I saw Jack appear behind him with some kind of club, there was no stopping the blow coming my way.

The sheer force of that punch was like I had a warship dropped right onto my chest. I could barely tell I was rocketing across the distance between the two ships; it felt as if every last one of my ribs was broken. I then hit our ship's deck, and thankfully, unconsciousness let the pain slowly ebb away.


	3. Chapter 3

I had no idea how much time had passed, when I came to. I seemed to be lying on a stiff mattress, and when I fought to look around, I could see that said mattress was on the floor. Around me were Al Cid, Luther, and Charles, all battered and bruised, as well. It wasn't possible for me to sit up; I had no strength to do so, and my ribs were far too injured.

That was when I saw a familiar face. "Don't you dare try to get up," Jane warned. "You got a lot of ribs broken. The Captain was able to set them safely, somehow or another, and I took care of the rest, but you have got to lie still." She must have known what I was about to ask before I asked it, because she proceeded to explain what she knew of the attack that I needed filled-in on.

Once the ships began to drift apart, the crews returned to their own ships, and the planks were taken back up. Yet before anymore cannonfire could be exchanged, a mighty storm kicked right up where we were. "Our ship went one direction, theirs was blown in another," she continued. "So, once the squall settled and they were nowhere in sight, we began to work on patching up everyone who was injured. The Captain called that Yurble who we met before 'Bartholomew,' so there's no doubt they have some history." I agreed with that, and I let her know that said gigantic Yurble had called Captain Jackson his 'old friend.' That really didn't sit well with Jane, and I didn't blame her for rushing off.

It was very unpleasant, slowly recovering. I had Al Cid's company, though, and I got to know Luther and Charles better. It turned out that Charles had been a former pirate Captain's first mate, before running afoul of a freak storm had killed the rest of his crew. He'd been able to swim to escape, but when his leg got caught between two boulders, he did something I don't know that I could ever do, myself: he wrapped the ship's detached anchor chain 'round his leg, and through sheer brute strength, cut his lower-leg off to escape. He said that a beautiful Maraquan Acara girl had given him a push towards a safe shore, where Luther found him. The two were both outcasts on Mystery Island, but resolved to make a better life for themselves.

While Luther earned the local Flotsam Chef's respect, enough to be taught how to cook, Charles defied all odds and rose through his classes at the Training School despite his pegleg. Then, the two proceeded to teach each other what they'd learned, while searching for a lasting crew. They came to stop at the same island where we met Jolyne, who, as it turned out, had helped the two find work as local chefs in a then-abandoned restaurant. Still, she was sure that the two gave her a fifth of their earnings. I considered it a mark of honor that she didn't ask for a fourth or third.

I also got to read a lot, while I recovered. From one of his 'old friends,' Captain Jackson had a number of books that explained Neopian politics and philosophy in a manner that was more readily-digested for my tastes. Those books probably made my recovery quite successful: if I had gotten uppity in my boredom and tried to move, I'd probably not have recovered in the six days that I did. Jolyne was surprised how well I pulled through (almost as astonished as at Al Cid's four-day recovery), but Morgan gleefully attested to our fast healing from experience he'd had with us in our years together.

"Those two are different beasts from you or I," he was happy to elaborate. "They live for battle, and that's made quick recovery a necessity." I wasn't able to argue with his logic, so I just nodded along with Al Cid. Jolyne just shrugged, and went back to her map reading.

... ... ...

I didn't know what to expect from Jolyne's guidance, but a trip to Tyrannia was certainly not what I thought of as a destination for pirates. A few local Chias and Aishas were fascinated by our ship, but Pete was able to negotiate with them to not begin giving the hull experimental whacks with their clubs. "This is my old stomping ground," the yellow Graarl said joyfully, his eye twitching a bit with excitement, as it was tend to do. "I actually think that Sammy and I could do with a visit to Chief Synosaur. Do excuse us." As she loved the sound of that name, I was certain there was no point in trying to dissuade the grungy blue Zafara from following.

Thus, I looked about at the crew. Jolyne had appointed Morgan to look out from above, while she had Al Cid move about a number of boulders so she could look beneath them. Jane was making sure that Charles and Luther's recovery finished smoothly, and the Captain was doing a review of his loot, so that left no one to even talk to. Well, there _was_ that little clan of curious Tyrannian Usuls. I walked over to them, trying to think of how to tell them to not give the ship a hard time, but their tiny leader with her ridiculously tall staff spoke first.

"Ugga thugg Pete-ugg gugh thugg-gah," she said. It was clear as mud to me, but I nodded. "Ugga krugg," she pointed to the ship, "Gugg nagh ugga," she whacked her staff lightly against her hand, "Nugg nagh ugg." and shook her head. I could manage to understand what she meant. They knew Pete didn't want the ship damaged, and the locals had all come to agree that they wouldn't go against his wishes. I smiled and inclined my head awkwardly, trying to give thanks. The Usuls all smiled, and inclined their heads back. Perhaps these locals were a bit smarter than I'd given them credit for.

Eventually, Jolyne gave a whoop. I turned, to see that she'd been digging through the grainy, coarse sand of the Tyrannian beach. From the bottom of the wide hole, she prized an ebony box, with rather tarnished copper decorations of vines and leaves. At the curious look Al Cid, Morgan, and I gave her, the red Zafara elaborated. "This is a treasure one of my old crews found out about," Jolyne explained. "We were never able to agree on where it was, but I was sure that it was on this beach. How right I was!" She took out a small, bent metal rod, and took to picking at the box's lock.

By this time, I began to wonder where Pete and Sammy had gone. It occurred to me that Jolyne would be most likely to know. "Hey, Navigator," I asked her. She looked up, without a hint of aggravation; she outright told us to call her anything but out of cash. "Do you know anything about this 'Synosaur' guy that your friend Pete took Sammy to see?" Jolyne thought it over for a moment, and soon handed the box to Al Cid, for him to take back to the ship. She then looked back to me, with a curious look on her face.

"He's a master of explosives," she said plainly. "Mixing powders, making bombs, using them in the best way...I think he's the one who taught Pete what he knows about operating cannons. So, I guess it makes sense that he'd take your bomb-fanatic friend to see his old teacher on the matter." Abruptly, she looked out to sea. The look in her eye clearly told that Jolyne wasn't liking what she saw. I padded down to stand beside her, and looked out, as well. I was perplexed, then grew anxious.

As the Jolly Roger flown by the ship came into view, my fingers itched. It was a swift ship, and was quickly drawing close to shore. Fluttering down to us, Morgan said breathlessly, "It's the _Stone Hammer_, and her crew looks ready to fight." As the flat ship's porous stone hull and ragged sails came into view, it was clear what kind of crew we'd be facing. When they ran aground, the little Usul group scurried off in fear. I didn't blame them.

The crew of the ship were all Tyrannian 'Pets, armed with stone weaponry that had many flames among them. There had to be a dozen of them, and I couldn't rightly tell which was their Captain as I drew my blades. Al Cid quickly leapt down to join us; Morgan fluttered up to our ship to alert Jackson.

In very little time, the battle was upon us.


End file.
